


What are rivals for?

by ZereldaMarx035



Category: Abigail Bellweather - Fandom, Libba Swythe - Fandom, Motherland: Fort Salem (TV)
Genre: Abigail Bedwetter, Abigail and Libba rivalry, Bellweather Unit, Character Death, Gen, Libba Swythe Death, Motherland: Fort Salem - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:27:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24102859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZereldaMarx035/pseuds/ZereldaMarx035
Summary: It wasn't the goodbye she wanted, or necessarily the one Libba had deserved, but it's the one Abigail needed. All pomp and posturing aside. Libba Swythe was dead.
Relationships: Abigail Bellweather/Libba Swythe
Comments: 3
Kudos: 37





	What are rivals for?

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I really appreciate it, and I hope you enjoy. My twitter is @MarxZerelda if you have any comments or requests!

"How do you measure a life?" Abigail read, the words sticking in her throat. 

The well-dressed crowd before her eyed Abigail curiously, the feud between the Bellweather's and Swythe's preceding them. Libba's coffin stood behind her, a vibrant flag placed carefully over it. Abigail had watched them fold that flag into a neat triangle, crowning the shining wood of Libba's last resting place. She stood at the podium awkwardly. Unsure of what to say for the first time in her life. 

"Libba Swythe was a -" Abigail broke off for a second, the memories swirling in her mind thick with insults. Dirty Swythe, nay-nay noodling family, all of them seemed pointless now. All that rage and fury was for naught. Libba died, standing beside Abigail. Her life brought to a close by shorn metal. The beginnings of respect between the two was lost to the ages, their final moments in the aircraft blotted out by death itself. 

Abigail continues her speech, the words sounding fake to her ears. "Excellent leader," "Died honorably," "Accomplished," All of it sounded like falsehoods. After all, how do you eulogize the person you wasted most of your life hating? Raelle and Tally look on with concern, they're unused to her floundering during a speech. 

When she finally took a seat she was fighting back tears, hoping that Tally and Raelle didn't say anything. She refused to cry in front of this many people. Powerlessness wasn't the Bellweather way. 

Once the funeral ended Tally, Raelle, and Abigail filed back to their dorm. Abigail was somewhat dejected. 

The next few weeks has Abigail on autopilot, some of the satisfaction seemed to be missing now that she didn't have Libba to gloat to. Her greatest rival, the bane of her existence, a walking shit turkey from a stupid shit bird family had died. If anything Abigail expected to be proud of her wherewithal. Instead the challenge and fun of victory seemed to be leeched from the world. 

"Abigail, I think you should see something;" Tally broke through the haze of everyday mundanity, her brown eyes shimmering with obvious concern. Abigail shrugged, "What?" Instead of an answer Tally took her hand, pulling her out of their room and out to the forest. Raelle was waiting, a solemn kind of consternation about her facial features. They led her to a small clearing where candles and a picture of Libba sat. 

"We know you didn't say everything you needed to say," Tally explained. Abigail assessed the small memorial with barely concealed disdain. "You think a small candlelit Christo Pagan seance will make a difference?" 

"Well, we figured maybe you could say it to us, just us. Get it all out," Tally said, she began to fidget slightly. The last couple of weeks had been hard on all of them, Abigail's mood making it all the worse. "What do you think?" Abigail asked Raelle, who sighed. 

"I think that your speech was hot garbage and I also think you need this. If you get the chance to scream it out, take it. I know a thing or two about conflicting feelings." 

Raelle's eyes were rimmed with red, anger flashing in orbs of blue. Of course, she knew a thing or two about unfinished business. Abigail cleared her throat. 

"Libba Swythe was a goddess awful shitbird that tainted the very ground that she walked on. She stole the first dance with my divined upon my debut and honestly tried to make every second of my life a living hell. She was small and bitter, a terrible person and her family are a bunch of nay-nay noodling idiots." 

"Her seeds were a poor excuse for any High Atlantic Witch and cloaked the clear and obvious lies that she delighted in telling about my family." 

Abigail faltered once more, the rage bubbling up in her voice. "She was stupid and terrible. A dirty Swythe that didn't deserve the title of Witch." She took a shuttering breath as memories floated to the forefront of her mind. "She took everything from me." 

"She took my crayons when we were six, she took the boys I liked, she stole first place from me in the spelling bee, she took and took and took." Abigail took another deep breath before continuing. "And now - And now she's taken my purpose." 

"Of course she dies in the line of duty, she goes down as brave and wonderful. She's probably laughing at me from the grave, and it's not as though I can hate her now." The sky began to crackle above the clearing as Abigail continued to rave about her now-deceased rival. "She took everything while she was alive and now she's taken my right to hate her." 

"She was awful to me and I wasn't perfect either but it's what we were. I hated her and she hated me, that was the deal. She was supposed to be there when we had kids, she was supposed to hate me just as much as I hated her. I was supposed to become a general before her and rub it in her dirty stupid face. I was supposed to hate her with everything I had, but now I have to sing her praise." Abigail forced an embittered laugh between choking sobs. "I was supposed to hate you," she said to the photograph. The candles flickered lightly, mocking her.

"You don't though, do you?" Raelle said softly, understanding clear in her eyes. "You can't hate her, not after everything you've been through together." Abigail collapsed to the floor, knees pressing into the dirt as she glowered at the pitiful tribute before her. "No, I can't;" She admitted. 

"I'm going to miss your dumb lies and noodling remarks Swythe;" Abigail murmured, "You made me better. I pushed myself so hard because of you, I was waiting on the day where I got my first real command, but you always seemed to beat me to everything. You were good at City Drop too, so good. You knew what you were doing, even when I froze or lost it." Abigail looked down in shame, resisting the memories that threatened to flood her consciousness. Charvel, bleeding and empty, a shell of her former self. The echoing screech of a foreign seed as it restricted her wind sheer. The feel of her fist meeting that City Drop proctor's face over and over again. "You made me stronger Swythe and I hate that I'm going to miss you." 

Abigail finally broke down completely, all her walls and bravado dropping before a shitty picture of the shittiest person she knew. "I'm going to miss you, so much and I hate you for that." 

Tally and Raelle leaned down to wrap their fallen leader in their arms, Tally pressing calming kisses to Abigail's forehead. "We'll take care of your girl Libba," Raelle whispered to the picture. Abigail swore the flames flashed for a second, just as brightly as Libba's eyes did in life. It wasn't the goodbye she wanted, or necessarily the one Libba had deserved, but it's the one Abigail needed. All pomp and posturing aside. Libba Swythe was dead, it was Abigail's time to make Libba proud. After all, what were rivals for?


End file.
